


Rule # 36: A Melody Malone Mystery

by rachel6141997



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Chameleon Arch, F/M, Mystery, except it's not actually an AU, post death in heaven, whouffaldi, whouffle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-02-23 03:05:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2531759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachel6141997/pseuds/rachel6141997
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor must disguise himself as a human again, and Clara is rapidly becoming out of her depth...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which Clara says, "Let's Get Some Coffee"

**Author's Note:**

> Right. So having read a ridiculous amount of whouffle university AUs in the last couple of days (special credit to Lucelafonde- her "Nothing's Fair in Love and War was the tipping point :D), I have been inspired to pick up the pen… er, keyboard… for the first time in… well, a while. Two years? Year and a half? Anyway, I’m writing again, and it is a sort of maybe whouffle university AU (I can’t decide whether Whouffaldi fits) , except it isn’t actually an AU, because the Chameleon Arch in “Human Nature”/”Family Blood”  
> So yeah… enjoy :)

_He was flying through time and space, the Impossible Girl at his side. There was nothing and no one who could stop them, and everyone and everything to see. Daring rescues, wild adventures, and a whole lot of running… It was incredible._

Doctor John Smith woke up with a start. Scrabbling at his bed stand, he grasped a small blue notebook filled with scribbles and drawings. Quickly as he could, he jotted down the images and impressions that were even now beginning to fade.

 

The dreams were different every night. Sometimes he fought monsters. Sometimes he explored strange worlds. Sometimes he sat in absolute silence, not moving at all, simply staring at the vast expanse of stars in wonder. The only constant was her.

 

The “Impossible Girl”. Her face seemed to hover just out of reach every night. He never saw her in his dreams, but he knew she was always there. Why was he haunted by this mysterious girl? Why was he dreaming such strange dreams at all? He had never read much science fiction; he had always been a history buff.

 

Which reminded him that his first class was tomorrow. He’d been lucky to land a job at the University so close to the start of the school year. Luckier still that the period of history he was to teach was his favorite, the Elizabethan Age.

With any luck, his students would enjoy it too. If not, well… he grinned wolfishly. He would show them.

 

**

 

Clara Oswald stared at the blue box in her bedroom.

“Dammit, Doctor,” she muttered. “How long…”

He’d been in an awful hurry, and hadn’t really explained.

 

“You just got that job teaching English at the University, yes?”  he’d asked. He hadn’t bothered to wait for an answer before continuing, “Well, the TARDIS will help me get a position there. I’ll be a history professor; I’ve always liked the subject. It seems quite real when you’ve lived through most of it.”

“But-” Clara tried to interrupt, but he plowed on through.

“Anyway, I’ll be a human, and hopefully they’ll lose our scent. Never thought I’d have to do this again. Damn, but this is going to hurt,” He said, frowning as he strapped himself into the oddly shaped helmet. Clara grew even more worried. The sound of the cloister bell, ringing endlessly, only increased her alarm, the piercing tone seeming to shake her very bones.

“Hurt?” She asked. “Doctor, don’t-” But the Doctor wouldn’t let her override him.

“Yes, of course it will hurt. What did you expect, changing species would be pleasant? Anyway, I’m leaving a message for you… See you in a few months…” His voice grew muffled.

 

Then his face had contracted into a silent rictus of pain. The TARDIS had started to WHOOSH!, and the next thing Clara knew, she was alone in the TARDIS, clutching the Doctor’s antique watch, the blue machine parked in her bedroom.

 

Now, scowling darkly, she snapped her fingers, and the TARDIS opened obediently. She stepped through into the console room, and hurried over to the computer screen. She hesitated, thinking, _Clara Oswald, get a hold of yourself. You’ve practically memorized the message already._ But she pressed PLAY anyway, and the Doctor’s gruff Scottish brogue filled the room.

“Alright, Clara, some ground rules before I turn human. One, don’t let me hurt anyone. As a human , I won’t know my own strength. Two, the TARDIS will hide herself, I’ve got a perception filter set. Three, Um… Stick close to me. The last time this happened, I nearly abandoned a friend. Don’t let me do that to you. Four…” As she heard the Doctor’s voice, a tear rolled down Clara’s cheek. She missed the Doctor. She hadn’t seen him in a month, and the man she would see tomorrow- he wouldn’t be her Doctor. The recording began to reach its end.

 

“Thirty-five. If the worst comes to worst, use the watch. Open it up, and my memories will return. That’s a last ditch measure, though. Finally, and this is _very important_ , whatever you do, you  mustn’t let me fall in love. I am not a human. I cannot become caught up in human relationships; I cannot fall in love. If it happens- ” He broke off, and smiled awkwardly. “Don’t give me a choice in the matter; just open up the watch. Thanks, Clara. Stay safe.” The recording blacked out, and Clara leaned against the console, slowly sinking to the ground.

 

She almost never thought about how old the Doctor really was… then moments like this caught up and slapped her in the face, reminding her of how many years he had lived, how many other companions he’d had. His friend. The one he’d done this with the first time. Clara wondered where she was, what she’d been doing. How she’d been able to leave the Doctor. Or if he’d left her. She wondered why the Doctor had placed so much emphasis on not falling in love- had that happened the first time?

 

Questions circled and circled in her mind, and even the comforting presence of the TARDIS couldn’t ease Clara’s mind.

 

**

 

He was dreaming again.

 

_She was there, like always. This time she was laughing. He could hear her, teasing. “Don't rob any banks.”_

_“ Don't rob any banks what?” he responded, looking at her._

_“ Without me.”_

_“Course not, Boss.”_

The Doctor woke up, and dove for his notebook. Feverishly, he sketched the face. Her face. He had seen her, and now he drew her.

 

When he finished, he stared at her. She was… pretty, but there was no reason why her face should haunt his dreams. Troubled, he closed the notebook, slipping it inside his briefcase. He had to get ready for class.

 

**

 

Clara was nervous. She sat at her desk in the corner, watching her students file in. Soon she would have to start teaching. Doctor or no Doctor, this was possibly the defining moment in her career. Or perhaps she was exaggerating in her nervousness.

 

The clock struck ten, and Clara stood up from her desk, moving to the front of the room. Her students were immediately quiet, and she was amused at the contrast with her first day at Coal Hill. Some of her nerves dissipated, and she was able to speak in a normal tone of voice.

“I am Professor Clara Oswald.  Welcome to English Literature.” As she to teach the class in earnest, all her nerves vanished, and the time flew by. When her alarm buzzed signifying the end of class, she was caught by surprise.

“Right. We meet again on Thursday; remember to have Beowulf prepared. Class dismissed!” A few of her students looked a little startled at her dismissal, and she winced inwardly. Transitioning from a middle school to a college would take some getting used to, she could tell. Sighing, she gathered her things. She had an hour before the next class, and she figured she should grab a coffee. Though she loved teaching, her voice has grown somewhat hoarse, and she knew it would be a long day.

 

Humming some nonsense tune under her breath, she walked out the door- and straight into the Doctor.

 

**

 

The Doctor’s first class had gone quite well, and he was ambling through the halls filled with a sense of smug satisfaction when a door opened, and a small figure smacked into him. By reflex, he grabbed the girl’s arm, and steadied her on her feet. Letting go, he looked at her clearly for the first time, and all his breath went out in an instant.

 

It was her. She was even wearing the same suit outfit as in his dream. After a moment he realized he was staring- and then realized she was doing the same. She had the oddest expression on her face as she looked at him- then suddenly she blushed and glanced away.

“I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I should have been watching.”

“Yes, you should have,” he retorted, suddenly angry. Who was this strange woman, to haunt his nights and interrupt his daydreams? At his curt response anger flared in her eyes.

“Of course it doesn’t help that you walk about with your head stuck in the cloud!” She bit out, glaring. Taken aback, he stared at her. He didn’t think it was normal for a student to address a professor that way.

“As a professor,” he said, drawing himself up slightly, “I think I am entitled to whatever day dreams I please… including dreams of a little respect!” He hadn’t believed it possible, but the girl grew even angrier.

“Well as a professor myself, I think a little respect ought to be mutual!”

 

He blinked, and took in the neatly printed “Professor Clara Oswald” on the top file folder in her arms, and blushed slightly in chagrin. The small woman- Clara- was not the student he had assumed she was.

“I- I apologize. I shouldn’t have assumed-” The anger left Clara’s face, though her expression remained stern.

“Even if I was a student, you were still rude,” she pointed out.

“You are correct. I apologize,” he said again. She met his gaze sternly, and then suddenly smiled, the expression blinding.

“I’ll tell you what, you can make it up to me with coffee.”

“What?”

“Coffee.  You, me, and a drink filled with stimulating chemicals.”

“I know what- ” He started to say, than realized she was teasing. He smiled uncertainly, and she took his arm.

“Come on. I’m Professor Oswald, but really you can call me Clara.” He tried to resist her tug half-heartedly, then gave in.

“I’m John Smith. But I’m called the Doctor,” he said, a little shyly, and she smiled again.

“Well, Doctor, let’s get some coffee.”


	2. In Which Clara  Comes to the Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
> Sorry about the delay, but I accidentally deleted this chapter off my pc, and I HATE re-writing things from memory because I always feel like the original was better, so basically I kept putting this off.  
> And then school happened.  
> And then I wrote another fic, but now I am working on this one, I promise!  
> Sorry again, and I hope you enjoy this one :)

Clara ordered the coffee. The doctor protested, but Clara ignored him, coming back to their table- a small one in the back of the coffee shop she had staked out earlier in the day- with their favorites: black, 2 sugars for her, and milk with four for him. He took a sip, and put it down in surprise.

"You got it right. How-" Clara cursed her stupidity. She wasn't supposed to know things like that. She cast about wildly for an excuse.

"Oh, I'm just talented like that," she said breezily, with a smile. He looked at her with suspicion, but let it go. At last, the Doctor shifted uncomfortably.

"Well, Professor Oswald," he said, Scottish brogue thicker than usual. "What do you teach?" She smiled, glad for something to say. It was awkward, talking to a man who she knew very well, but who didn't know  _her_ at all.

"English Literature. You?"

"I teach history." Clara couldn't resist. She laughed, and his bushy eyebrows drew down.

"It seems fitting," she said sweetly. "Seeing as you've lived through so much of it." The Doctor was offended.

"And I suppose  _you_ are qualified to teach literature because you have read so much of it," he challenged. now it was Clara's turn to be offended. This was a sore point with her.

"Well, yes! My job is to teach students to appreciate literature. what's yours? Teaching them to learn from history? By that standard all history teachers are rubbish." The Doctor eyed her with obvious contempt.

"It's a little more involved than that, as you would know if you ever left your precious fantasy world. You probably believe Robin Hood was real." Clara couldn't help herself; she laughed. The Doctor stared at her, understandably confused. Clara tried to speak, but only managed to laugh harder.

Suddenly she stopped, hearing for the first time the growing commotion outside the coffee shop. Across the street, a group of men were crowding a young woman. They whistled catcalls and suggestive comments as she hurried away, books clutched protectively to her chest. Even from here, Clara could see the panic on the girl's face. As one, Clara and the Doctor left the shop, coffees abandoned. Clara hurried across the street in time to see the men corner the girl in an alley. The leader leered at the girl and stepped in closer- only to be met by Clara's punch in the face.

He stumbled back, howling, and his gang, growling in anger, started to go after Clara. She fought back, raking her nails across their faces and stabbing their insteps with her heels. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the girl fumble in her purse and pull out a can of mace, spraying it at anyone who got too close. But six men were too many, even with the mace, and one of the toughs grabbed Clara's arm. She was about to start panicking herself when an icy voice filled the alley.

"I suggest you unhand Professor Oswald." The Doctor stood in the mouth of the alley, eyebrows raised. The leader of the gang, now recovered from Clara's punch, eyed the Doctor for a moment- then laughed. Clara couldn't blame him. Six strong young men, against a spindly old man and two girls?

For a moment, Clara almost pitied him.

"No?" The Doctor shrugged. "Your loss." He moved so fast the man holding Clara's arm had no time to react. He slumped to the ground, unconscious, as the Doctor did that nerve pinch trick- the kind of thing that, until she met the Doctor, Clara had thought happened only in movies- and pulled the girl away from the wall.

"Run!" Clara and the girl obeyed, following the Doctor out of the alley and into the street. It was too quiet, without much traffic or any bystanders, but at the end of the street was a public square. They would be safe there. They ran. When they reached the square they stopped, sagging against a wall and panting. Clara and the Doctor looked at each other and started to laugh. Clara remembered the girl when she started to giggle, too. looking at her now, she recognized one of her own students from that morning's class. She smiled at the girl- Nina, she thought- and the girl smiled shyly back.

"Hi, Professor Oswald, Doctor. Thank you for rescuing me. I panicked and forgot I had the mace," Nina explained.

"You'll be alright. Just stick to busy streets from now on, yes?" She shooed the girl off, and turned to the Doctor. "And _you_ seem to think you _are_ Robin Hood," she said dryly. He huffed disbelievingly, but Clara could see he was pleased.

"You kept up well," he said finally. She smiled.

"I've had a lot of practice running." He raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? Was that what you did before teaching here?"

"No. No, I taught at a primary school while I took night classes. Running was... a hobby."

"Why did you leave?"

"I.., wanted a change of pace," Clara lied. She didn't want to think about why she'd left Coal Hill. The memories were too fresh. "Come on," she said at last. "You still owe me a coffee- two, now." The Doctor grumbled about "stubborn women with selective memories", but followed her back to the coffee shop.

 

***

 

The Doctor was thinking as he left Clara Oswald and returned to his classroom. She was a puzzle. She appeared in his dreams, knew his coffee tastes, could run as fast as he could (in heels!), and jumped to save others. She would pick fights with him, look at him in the oddest ways, and burst out laughing for no reason at all. He'd only met her that morning, but she acted like he was a long-time friend. He _felt_ like a long-time friend. He'd never met anyone quite like her. Simply put, she was impossible.

The Doctor plunged into his class with frustration borne enthusiasm. He broke more than one piece of chalk, and the students who left his classroom at the end of the lecture bore rather dazed expressions.

"He talks as though he knew them personally," he overheard one student say. Ruefully, the Doctor picked up scattered pieces of chalk- and promptly dropped them again at the dry voice behind him.

"Got a little carried away?" She was there, perched on one of the desks like a school girl.

"Are you going to follow me about all day?" he asked irritably. She smiled slyly.

"Only if you want me to, Doctor." He snorted and picked up the chalk again.

"I don't," he said shortly. Her smile fades, and she looked a little lost for a moment. The Doctor felt guilty, and added quickly, "Not that that will stop you." There! The smile was back. Pleased with himself, he deposited the broken chalk pieces in a rubbish bin and dusted off his hands. He headed to the door, then stopped, bowing courteously.

"After you, Professor Oswald."

"Clara," she corrected him, but allowed him to usher her through the door.

 

***

 

"Have you any more classes?" Clara inquired as they walked out. She winced, and pulled her coat closer. The September day had gotten cooler and overcast. Though it was still early afternoon, if felt much later.

"no," the Doctor answered tersely. She remembered then how much he hated to be cold, in this incarnation, and didn't take offense. They walked in amiable silence to the faculty parking lot. Midway through the rows, the Doctor stopped.

"This is my car," he said abruptly. Clara glanced out it and barely managed to stifle her laugh.

The Doctor's car was a very bright, vivid blue- TARDIS blue, you might say.

"It's a very _nice_ car," she said evenly, after a moment. The Doctor preened. "G-goodnight, Doctor," she managed. Clara was very good. She was solemn through the Doctor's gruff "good evening, Clara", through the short walk to her own car, through fumbling in her purse for her keys. She even managed to get in and close to door before she started to laugh. She laughed and laughed and laughed, until tears rolled down her face and her whole body trembled. At last, she came to a halt with a hiccup, hand pressed against her racing heart, Shaking her head, she pulled out of the parking lot, and drove home.

This whole scenario was ridiculous. It was completely and utterly insane.

And Clara wasn't sure she could handle the pressure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness, so much to write!  
> Ok, so in my head canon this takes place after the season finale- so I will change the tags as soon as there are spoilers, though that hasn't happened yet.  
> Tributes: "black, two sugars" courtesy of Sherlock :) and I thought that adding a ridiculous amount of sugar to his coffee was like the doctor- prickly, but sweet on the inside.  
> I actually have most of the next chapter written up, but I don't know when I'll be able to type it up, especially since I now have some kind of HUGE paper cut in the webbing of my hand (typing this right now is actually quite painful).
> 
> And no britpicker. I try my best- rubbish bin instead of trash can, flat instead of apartment- but I WILL make mistakes, sorry.
> 
> There is a huge treat coming next chapter; surprise characters coming!!!
> 
> I think that's everything, so I hope you enjoyed. Comment please! :)


	3. In Which Clara Gets Some Flatmates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was literally SO much fun to write...

"Shit." There were no other words for it. Clara had run the number us, down, sideways- she'd even tried diagonally- but there was no denying it. Between the car payments, the end of Dad' financial assistance, and the onslaught of student loans, now that she'd finished grad school- well, even with pay hike as an under professor, she couldn't afford the rent.

Clara did not want to move. She loved her flat. It was big- far bigger than she needed, really, but she liked the space- located conveniently close to the University, and she'd spent the last few years here. She was on first name basis with the other residents in the building. It was her  _home_.

But she couldn't afford the rent anymore. knuckling her forehead, Clara came to the inevitable conclusion. If she wanted to keep the flat, she would have to get a flat mate. Reluctantly, she placed an advert online and crossed her fingers, hoping that, just this once, she would get lucky.

When she got home from work on Thursday, Clara was shocked to find her inbox bursting with emails. It appeared that there was a high demand for flats at the moment, especially in her area. Clara was cheered. It would give her an advantage in the negotiations, and she would have her pick of flatmates. She sorted through the responses, discarding any from men. She didn't want to deal with the hot mess of potential problems  _that_ could cause. The rest were from women of various ages, bar one which caught her eye. She opened the email. It was from a married couple a little older than her, no children. She bit her lip, thinking. She had only intended to take in one flatmate, but to be honest she had the room for two. And the bedrooms had been soundproofed by the tenant before her, so  _that_ wouldn't be an issue. It was the names that teases her, pulling at half remembered conversations.

"Amy and Rory Williams," she murmured. She knew she'd heard the names before, but couldn't remember where. Frowning, she shrugged. Why not? She sent back an email suggesting a time and place to meet the next day. She'd talk to them; see how they got along. Who knew? It could be fun.

 

***

 

The Doctor was humming "The Symphony of the Spheres" as he folded laundry when his cell phone buzzed loudly. Growling in annoyance, he emptied his pockets and was about to start checking his shoes when he remembered he'd stuck it on a shelf. Scowling he thumbed it open. The expression softened when he saw it was from Clara.

# can't meet you for coffee tomorrow, sorry # The Doctor frowned. They had met everyday for lunch and coffee since they'd met. Why was she changing her habits now?

# Why not? # he texted back, indignant. The response came quickly.

# Meeting potential flatmates. Can't afford the rent, but didn't want to move. So I gotta share :( #

# You could have asked me. You already know me. # This time it took longer. When he read the text he could practically hear Clara's voice.

# You have got to be kidding me. Do you have any idea how WEIRD that would be?!?! #

# Evidently not.#

#Just... I'll see you on Monday, alright? # The Doctor debated teasing her further, but decided against it.

# If you insist. # he texted back. He expected no reply, and got none. There were some things even Clara refused to reply to.

The Doctor shoved his phone in his pocket and stared blankly at the mountains of laundry.

It would be a long weekend.

 

***

 

Clara hadn't been sitting at her table for long when she saw a couple bustle in. The woman wore a printed cotton dress and had flaming red, shoulder length hair. The man wore an old fashioned suit. They looked around before spotting Clara and strolling over. Clara suddenly felt underdressed, in her plain sundress with a black stole. But the couple smiled cheerfully.

"Hello. Are you Clara Oswald?" The woman's- Amy's- accent was odd- a mixture of Scottish and American, with another weird note thrown in.

"Yeah, that's me. And you two are Amy and Rory?"

"Non other," Rory said. His accent was also odd- not Scottish but English, with the same weird American note. They sat down.

"So," Clara said, a little nervously, "I thought we could talk for a bit, see how we like each other. Then if we hit it off, I can show you the flat." Amy smiled.

"Sounds great. What do you do for a living? Rory's a nurse. I did some modeling, a while back, but now..." she shrugged. Clara could see the gorgeous redhead as a model, no problem.

"I'm an under professor at the University. English Literature."

They made small talk for a few minutes, until Clara and Amy discovered they shared a passion for old black and white 40's films. Rory preferred color.

"Haven't seen one of those in a while," he said wistfully. Clara wondered briefly at this- especially when she caught the look Amy shot her husband- but the conversation had already progressed to what Clara called "real talk", about things the cared about.

By the hours end, they were fast friends, and Clara invited them back to the flat. Amy and Rory oohed and awed appropriately at Clara's pride and joy as she gave them a quick tour. She was about to show them the bedrooms when she remembered the TARDIS parked inside hers. It was in a corner out of the way, and she'd become used to its presence, but there was no way Amy and Rory wouldn't notice. She stopped in the hallway for an instant, then glossed past her door with a breezy, "my room; yours are down here", hoping the Williams would think she just liked her privacy.

They ended up back in the kitchen.

"Will you take it? I'd love to have you," Clara told them. they glanced at each other.

"We'll take it," they said together, and she grinned at them.

"It's just what we need," Amy added happily. "We don't know how long we'll be here, so we didn't want to buy, or get locked into a contract."

"I couldn't afford the rent," Clara admitted. "But I love it to much to leave."

"I don't blame you," Amy said, looking around once more. "It's beautiful." Clara beamed.

There were a few more formalities to take care of, but when Clara closed the door, she had two new flatmates and enough money to cover the rent.

Clara sighed, and wandered into her bedroom.

"You," she told the TARDIS, "are going to be a problem." Then she sighed. "Oh, I know it's not your fault, but I can't move you and I can't hide you, so we are royally screwed." Then the TARDIS chirped, and before Clara's eyes morphed into a wardrobe. She gasped. "but... your chameleon circuit is broken, isn't it? Unless..." she grinned. "you pretend, for the Doctor, don't you." The TARDIS chirped what Clara thought might possibly be agreement, and the human girl shook her head in amusement. "That's our girl," she said, and patted the police box-turned-wardrobe with affection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right. So I am all healed from my paper cut thing; and am now almost three chapters ahead of what I've posted here, although I don't know when I'll have the chance to type them up :(  
> You might notice I have changed some of the tags... I have decided on the relationships and the title, and of course we have two new characters. :)
> 
> There are more familiar faces to come, and so tags will be updated further, along with a title change once it won't spoil anything. :D


	4. In Which Clara Gets Freaked Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rory cooking is a favorite plot bunny of mine :)

Amy and Rory moved in on Sunday. Monday morning, Clara stumbled blearily out of her bedroom to be met with a steaming mug of coffee.

"Bacon and scrambled eggs, or a ham hash and omelet?" Rory asked cheerfully. Clara, eyes suddenly wide, took in the bustling kitchen.

"Uh... hash and omelet, please?" she managed, as she watched Rory chop onions and whisk eggs. Amy, who has handed Clara the coffee, was sinking back into her chair.

"Does he do this every morning?" she asked. Amy nodded, grinning.

"Just about. It's like living in a hotel. Rory worked as a fry cook for a while when we lived in America, until he could get a job in the medical field. He picked up a few tricks, and now it's become his hobby." Clara eyed the steaming plate Rory set in front of her.

"I could get used to his. Can I keep your husband when you go, Amy?"

"I'm a one woman man, I'm afraid," Rory said, sitting down next to his wife with his own plate. "But I _do_ have a few cousins..." Amy elbowed him.

"No match-making, Rory, that's _my_ job." Rory grinned, and mock-bowed.

Later, as Clara shrugged on her coat after a breakfast full of good food an good laughter, she decided she liked having Amy and Rory as flatmates.

 

***

 

Amy started on the dishes as Rory closed the door behind Clara. He came back into the kitchen with a troubled expression.

"We'd best be careful, Amy. I like Clara. I don't want her getting hurt."

Amy nodded, but cautioned, "She may already be involved. Melody found this flat for us, and you know our dear daughter never does anything with out a reason... or possibly three."

Rory nodded, glanced at his watch, and sighed, "I've got to go to work. Stick to the drill, alright? Investigate, but don't go plunging into danger without me." Amy rolled her eyes.

"I followed you back in time, silly. I'm not about to leave you _now_."

"Not intentionally," Rory said darkly, but he let her kiss him goodbye.

"I'll see you tonight, you here? I'll be right where you left me." Rory smiled, and left for wok. Someone had to pay their share of the rent, after all.

Amy eyed the mess in the kitchen, and sighed. Somehow, she didn't think Clara was very forgiving of messes. Right. Clean first, then research.

 

***

 

The Doctor was anxious. Since he had met Clara, he had stopped having those odd dreams. but over the weekend, they'd come back and worse than ever. They were nightmares, dark, filed with fear and loss, and the feeling of running from something.

Now, as he waited for Clara at their usual table, he felt some of that fear spill over into the waking world. But his worries proved unfounded, as Clara came through the door, a bundle of energy and happiness that warmed him from head to toe.

He'd missed her, he realized. This was a worrisome thought, and he pushed it to the side.

"Liked the flatmates?" he asked sardonically as she sat down. Clara rolled her eyes.

"Yes, actually. They are quite lovely; I'll have to introduce you sometime."

"That is unnecessary." The Doctor didn't want to meet the flatmates who were taking Clara's attention. He might end up liking them, and it was bothersome to resent someone you liked.

"It's necessary if I sat it is," Clara shot back, and off they went. The Doctor enjoyed arguing with Clara. He was smarter, more experienced- but Clara had the sharper tongue, and an unerring sense of which buttons to push, and how far. As always, they ended up laughing, as the insults and comebacks grew ever more ridiculous and far fetched, until their gazes met and the absurdity of what was just said caught up with them.

"You are impossible, Clara," he said this time, shaking his head. "My impossible girl." There- it happened again. Her face went funny- still, for a moment. Then she grew sad. He was annoyed. "Why do you do that, anyway?" She looked at him, bewildered.

"Do what?" He scowled.

"All the time, I'll say something and you'll look at me funny. Then you will either laugh or become sad, for no reason." Clara looked at him uncertainly, then put on a falsely bright smile.

"Oh, I don't know. Sometimes I just get these mood swings," she said, in that airy way she always used to lie.

"You're lying," he said flatly. He got more of a reaction than he expected. Clara visibly flinched, and pushed back her chair. She got up and began to gather her things.

"I- I should go," she said. "I have some extra preparations to do for my next class." Before the Doctor could protest, she was gone.

He stared blankly at his empty coffee mug, and thought, _Shit._

 

***

 

Clara hurried along the street half blinded by tears. _Damn him,_ damn _him,_ she thought. _I promised._ She had sworn to the Doctor after last year that she would never lie to him again. Yet here she was. It didn't matter that it was necessary, or that if the Doctor- the _real_ Doctor were here, instead of locked inside some stupid watch, he would tell her to get a hold of herself. She was breaking her promise.

She poured herself into her afternoon class, and when it ended was left at a loss. She didn't want to think about the Doctor. She didn't want to be with people. She wanted to go home and comfort-binge, but Amy and Rory were there now, and home wasn't the precious isolation it had been. In the end, there was nowhere else to go, however, so reluctantly she pointed her car towards home, and drove.

When she walked in, Amy took one look at her face and vanished into the kitchen. She was back in an instant with a spoon and a tub of chocolate ice-cream. Clara managed a half-hearted smile.

"Go on. You look like you need it." Grateful that of all the responses to her advert, Clara had chosen the Williams', the younger woman slunk into her room, flopped on her bed, and turned on the TV. About an hour and way too much ice-cream later, Clara decided she was being stupid. Moping wouldn't fix anything, and she was being rude to her flatmates. She heaved herself out of bed and padded into the kitchen, ready to apologize. She was not at all prepared for the scene that met her eyes.

 

***

 

When Rory came in, Amy held her finger to her lips. He was surprised, but obeyed.

"Clara came in looking like hell," she whispered, "So I sent her off to her room. We should be clear." Rory nodded and helped her set up the room. Drapes over the windows, special candles on the table, strapping themselves into the most comfortable chairs in the kitchen. Lights of, light the candle, grab Rory's hand. Then the smoke began to take effect, and they dropped off to sleep.

Amy opened her eyes to a table floating just above Big Ben. She looked around, admiring the view.

"I see you've redecorated," she told River. Her daughter smiled.

"I like to keep things fresh," she said slyly. Rory winced, and River laughed. "Hello, father. How are you?"

"Well enough," Rory said warily. "Why'd you lead us to Clara?" River tisked.

" _Spoilers!_ " Rory rolled his eyes, but they had expected her answer. "I'm sorry, but I really can't tell you. Dangerous enough bringing you, ever for a short time, out of the past. Letting you know too much, too soon... could have dangerous repercussions."

"Can you at least give us a hint of where to find the Doctor?" Amy asked. River laughed again.

"Don't worry about that. _He'll_ find _you_. In the meantime, keep an eye out for anything...unusual. Even I'm not sure what the threat is. Just that there is one, and he'll need you help." Suddenly, there was a gasp and a clatter. River frowned. "That's at your end. Didn't you make sure you were secure...?" But her voice was fading as Amy and Rory woke up. Amy looked over to see a shocked Clara, and winced. She could imagine the thoughts running through the younger woman's mind right now, and she didn't like them.

Clara swallowed, and asked in a surprisingly calm voice, "Is this some kind of seance?"

"Um... no?" Rory said, after a moment. Amy winced again, and wriggled out of the straps that had kept her from falling over.

"Well, technically speaking, yes," Amy said. "It's complicated. Um... would you believe me if I said we are not normally this creepy?" Amy wasn't hopeful.

Clara's eyes were wide, but she said, "I've done some pretty creepy stuff myself. How about you promise this never happens again, and I forget it ever happened in the first lace? Amy stared at her for a moment, then smiled shakily.

"Its a deal," she said, and began to help Clara clean up. She noticed Clara looking at the candles oddly, before tossing them in the rubbish bin with a shudder. _Does she suspect? Or is she just creeped out?_ Amy was afraid to know.

Rory outdid himself with dinner that night. Amy suspected it was his way of apologizing, and sympathized.

 

***

 

Clara decided that, on the whole, if a penchant for creepy seances was the worst Amy and Rory had to offer, she could live with it. Especially if Rory kept cooking.

She also decided not to skip her meeting with the Doctor this morning. She was glad of her decision when she saw the relief on his face when he came in and saw her at their table.

"I'm sorry I lied and then ran off," she said quickly, before he could speak. He was silent.

"Could you tell the truth?" he said at last. She smiled painfully.

"No. but I can respect you enough to tell you when that's so, rather than lying."

"I accept your apology, then. I'll hold you to that, though," he warned, and she smiled more warmly.

"I can live with that," she said, and was relieved.

Maybe this would work out after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness, typing this was a beast. The keyboard I am using keeps skipping letters. I apologize if any typos remain :P  
> In my notebook, I am writing chapter 8, but like I've said, tying these things is NOT happening as quickly as I'd like :(
> 
> Tag updates, and a title change :)
> 
> Poor Clara. First she has to have flatmates. Then her flatmates start having conversations with their dead daughter... (River is the data ghost River we saw at series 7 finale at Trenzalore- hence, the technically a seance crack) And of course it will be a while before Amy and Rory and Clara finally pool knowledge....
> 
> Sorry for the ridiculously long end notes, and comment please!!!! :)


	5. In Which Clara Has Emotional Angst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the Doctor is back! With some whouffle, and a little bit of Amy/Rory cause the feels :)
> 
> Beware! This chapter is where spoilers for Death in Heaven start to come; you have been warned.
> 
> Also, a note about chronology; sometimes the chapters take place right after one another, and sometimes there are a few weeks in between. I generally try to give a hint as towards how much time has passed/what month it is, but I apologize for any confusion that remains.
> 
> Enjoy!

The Doctor sat in his empty house, alone. it was a dark and rainy Saturday in early November, and the gloom suited his mood. After a time, the Doctor got up and made a cup of tea. Then he returned to his chair and continued to stare into the darkness.

_I am completely and utterly screwed._

He couldn't stop thinking about her. He knew it was wrong, it was a bad thing that his life revolved around meeting Clara Oswald for coffee and lunch, Monday through Friday. But even as a tiny part of him screamed warnings and issued commands to  _run, run, don't get involved, you'll only get hurt_ the rest of him simply didn't care.

He was falling in love with Clara Oswald, and there didn't seem to be anything he could do about it. In the two months since he'd met her, she'd insinuated herself into his life like a hand into a bespoke glove. when he was away from her, he thought about her constantly. When he was with her, he couldn't think at all. Infuriating. Intoxicating. Impossible.

"My Clara," he whispered, but it was a lie, or a dream. She wasn't his. She would never be his.

 

***

 

On Monday, November 9th, Clara woke up, and decided getting out of bed would be far too much bother.

After a while, Amy came in, looking concerned.

"Clara, are you ill? You look like someone died." Clara flinched.

"Someone did," she said at last. "His name was Danny Pink."

 

***

 

The Doctor waited for Clara at lunch, but she never came. After a while, one of his students wandered over, and said, "If you are looking for Professor Oswald, Doctor, I think she's sick. She canceled class this morning." The Doctor stared at the student, then thanked him gruffly, and left the coffee shop.

Twenty minutes later, he stared at a door. he'd never been here before, but he knew it was the right address. He'd checked three times. After an agonizing minute of hesitation, the Doctor knocked several times, loudly. The door was opened by a redheaded woman, who raised her eyebrows.

"I am the Doctor," he said curtly. "This is where Clara lives, yes?" The woman's mouth opened, and she stared at him. Then she shook her head.

"Yes," she said cautiously, looking at him oddly. "She's not feeling too well, and you're not that sort of doctor, are you."

"No," he admitted, "I am not. But I am Clara's friend. Is she ill?" The woman hesitated, then moved aside, allowing him in.

"She'd grieving," she said quietly, leading him into a well-lit kitchen, where a man stood at the stove cooking some sort of soup. "Her boyfriend died a year ago today." Her boyfriend. Of course she had a boyfriend.  _I should never have come,_ the Doctor though. But he was here, and Clara was hurting. So when the woman pointed out Clara's room, he quietly slipped inside.

 

***

 

When Clara felt the weight that settled on her bed, she thought it was Amy. But the Scottish brogue belonged to a man's voice, not a woman's.

"I'm sorry,Clara," the Doctor said, and the kindness in his voice made her eyes and throat burn. She felt the Doctor take her hand and hold it in his, and started to weep silently.

The first time Danny had died, she had been angry, because such an extraordinary man didn't deserve to die in such an ordinary way. The second time had hurt, because it was a hero's death- fitting for a man she had thought so heroic. The third time was devastating, because it was the death Danny chose. His final action was true to his core- to save the boy he had killed, in atonement for his actions.

If Danny had saved himself instead, the man who returned would not have been the man Clara had loved. But knowing this didn't make it hurt any less, or stop her from wishing that Danny had been selfish, just this once.

"He didn't deserve to die," she choked out into her pillow, and the Doctor squeezed her hand. "It wasn't fair, he was so good, and I- it should have been  _me_ who died-"

"Sh, sh," he hushed her. She quieted, and he smoothed her hair back from her tear-stained face, tucking it behind her ear. The Doctor didn't say anything, but sat there and held her hand, crooning soft noises. After a while the tears stopped and Clara began to feel sleepy. The last thing she remembered was feeling the Doctor gently brush his lips against her forehead.

 

***

 

Amy watched the Doctor slip into Clara's room, then turned to her husband, eyes wide.

"Rory, he said he was the Doctor." Rory turned to stare at her, soup spoon frozen half way to his mouth for tasting. Slowly he lowered it into the pot and stepped towards Amy.

"him?" he said incredulously. "He's...  _old_." Amy nodded, stunned.

"He- he didn't recognize us," Amy said doubtfully. "It could be just a coincidence." Rory shook his head.

"Perhaps. But remember what River said- and where  _he_ is concerned, I don't believe in coincidences."

"Clara- should we-" Rory shook his head again.

"No. She's great, but if we're wrong-" his lips twitched into a half smile. "After our "seance" she might kick us out." Amy laughed, but her heart wasn't in it. She reached out and tugged Rory into a hug.

"I miss our raggedy man, Rory," she said into his shoulder. He held her tightly.

"I know, Amy. I know."

 

Amy was reading a book and Rory finishing his soup when Clara's Doctor- Amy refused to think of him as  _the_ Doctor, until she knew for sure- came out.

"She's asleep," he said looking worn and a little sad. Amy gestured for him to sit, giving him a proper look-over. He appeared to be in his mid fifties, tall slim, and grey, with fierce eyebrows and a lined face. he wore an odd black suit with a red lining, spoke with a rolling Scottish accent that made Amy ache fiercely for her childhood, and moed with a fluid grace at odds with his years.

"I'm Amy Williams; that's my husband, Rory. We're-"

"The flatmates, I know," he interrupted. "Clara told me."

"right. So... what are you a Doctor of? Do you have a name to go with that?"

"I am a history professor; as you might expect I have a doctorate in that. Among other things. And i prefer to be known simply as the Doctor. John Smith is such a very dull name." Amy smiled.

"Nor is it very Scottish. I must say, it's a relief to hear someone speaking properly."

"Your own accent is rather odd- American?" Amy grimaced.

"Yes. Rory and I spent a little longer in New York that we wished. We stopped by for a vacation and got... stuck."

"That sounds unpleasant." Amy glanced at Rory, who was smiling ironically as her set the soup to simmer.

"Oh, we got used to it. But it is nice to be back in the UK, and say hello to a few... old friends."

john Smith- still not the Doctor!- didn't react, and Amy thought she might growl in frustration. The man wasn't picking up on any of her hints. Perhaps it really was just a coincidence.

Thankfully, before things could get any more awkward, Clara wandered out of her room. Amy noticed how Smith's expression softened when he saw her.  _Ha!_ she thought.  _So_ that's _how things are..._

Rory placed a steaming bowl of chicken soup before Clara, and she smiled wanly.

"Thanks. Thank you, guys. I don't know what I've done to deserve friends like you," she said, blushing."It's the least we can do," Amy said firmly, as Rory served soup for her and the Doctor/Smith. "Everyone falls flat on their face sometimes. We just pick each other up and move on."

"Eat," Rory ordered, and they all obeyed. Once again, Rory had outdone himself.

With Clara there, the tension dissipated. Her doctor friend loosened up and even made a few jokes. Clara recovered, although she was still quieter than usual.

When the Doctor left, Clara helped Amy clean up the kitchen.

"I might tell you, one day," Clara said suddenly. "About Danny. His story deserves to be told, and I think you'd understand." Amy paused to touch the girl's arm in comfort.

"Someday," she agreed. She watched Clara go and thought of why she and Rory had come in the first place.

_I hope._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Domestic Rory makes my heart go fuzzy :)
> 
> And Clara is not usually this... weak? Emotional? But this is a serious reason to be upset, and there is plenty of strong Clara scenes later; this isn't meant to be OOC.  
> Anyway, I'm taking a break in typing for a couple days due to Thanksgiving (American, ya'know) but I have four more chapters written up, so there shouldn't be too long of a pause in updates :)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed.


	6. In Which There Are Clues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha I said break for thanksgiving and TWO WEEKS LATER....  
> but a concert coming up and four AP classes does not mix well with pretending I have free time :(
> 
> I apologize for the delay.

After three months of investigation, with no clue in sight, Amy was more going through the motions than actually searching when she saw it. She'd actually x'd out of the article when her brain caught up with her fingers. Frantically she clicked back through her history to reopen the article, and began to reread.

 _METEORITE_ _CARRIES ALIEN MESSAGE!_ the headline screamed. It was one of those sites owned by extraterrestrialists. The alien-obsessed movement had grown dramatically in the last few years, ever since the existence of aliens had been undeniably proved, but the vast majority of what the ETists saw- or thought they saw- wasn't real, and Amy had thought this article to be more of the same.

Except that when she'd looked at the photo, the letters had started to make sense.

After being stranded in New York in 1938, the effect of the TARDIS's translation matrix had begun to fade. Not entirely- Amy and Rory had found it shockingly easy to learn new languages, a handy trick in the immigrant filled American "melting pot"- but they no longer automatically understood or spoke foreign languages.

Yet now, as she stared at the photo of a space rock with odd characters carved into them, they changed into the Roman alphabet. 06.19.27.346682. It was a date, she knew, and it translated into February 28 this year. Hands shaking, she pulled out her phone and texted Rory. She didn't like dates- not after what had happened with the Crack in Space and Time, and all the horrors she only half-remembered. It was possible, she knew, for it to be a coincidence. A harmless message gone astray. But she had been looking for clues for three months with no sign of anything out of the ordinary, and, like Rory had said- when it came to the Doctor, Amy didn't believe in coincidences.

 

***

 

Rory felt his phone buzz, but he had his own problems.

"Nurse Williams," his boss said delicately, leaning back in her chair and examining her fingernails. "I received some rather... perplexing information about you and your wife, today." Rory said nothing. Dr. Martha Jones was not a woman to fool around with. There were whispers that she had worked for UNIT before managing the hospital, and Rory had no trouble believing them. Dr. Jones leaned forward and looked him in they eye.

"You are a good worker, Rory, and a skilled nurse. But I don't know what to think when I've received news that you and your wife disappeared three years ago and haven't been seen since." She waited. Rory swallowed.

"I don't think that 'disappeared' is quite the right word, ma'am," he said weakly. "We... got stuck in America for a few years, but it's not like we got lost in time or anything..." Dr. Jones's eyebrows shot up, and Rory realized he was babbling. He shut his mouth firmly.

"I'll trust you on this," Dr. Jones said at last. "But I expect you to refrain from vanishing on  _me_. If you take any trips to... America... try to come back n a timely fashion." She waved her hand in dismissal, and Rory gulped.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, and fled.

Outside her office, Rory stopped to check his phone. He read Amy's text with dismay.

 _I may have to disappoint you, Dr. Jones,_  Rory thought unhappily.

 

***

 

Martha flipped though Rory's file again, frowning. After a moment, she took out her phone.

"Hallo, love," a familiar voice drawled, and she smiled.

"Shut up Jack," she told him. "have you seen him since-"

"No." The amusement was gone from Jack's voice. "Why?"

"Just- one of my workers- he's got a very odd record. Disappeared with his wife for three years. And when I asked him about it, he said something even odder. time travel in not something people normally mention- let alone feel the need to deny." Jack was silent for a long moment, thinking, she knew.

"I don't have the connections anymore, Martha. But UNIT probably had files. Do you think this will-"

"No- I don't know- Maybe. If it does-" Jack laughed.

"If it does, you'd better call me."

"I will, Jack," she promised, and hung up. She eyed her phone. She had not parted well with UNIT, after they shut down her freelancing with her husband, Mickey.

To call, or not to call?

That was the question, and Martha had no answer.

 

***

 

When Clara got home, Amy was nowhere to be found. GONE FOR RESEARCH, a note on the kitchen table read. Clara shook her head. So Amy had finally exhausted the internet as a resource for her mysterious research project. She shrugged. That left the house clear for Clara's weekly visit to the TARDIS.

Clara opened her "wardrobe" and stepped into the TARDIS. She went up to the console.

"Trigger," she said clearly, according to the Doctor's instructions. "Search for hostiles within one light-second radius." The TARDIS chimed, and Clara's stomach dropped. This was new.

"Hostiles detected." Clara's mouth was dry with fear.

"Report," she instructed, voice trembling. _No, no, no, no..._

"Message traces detected in local meteorite. Composite reads: Star date 06.19.27.346682. Earth date equivalent: February 28th, 2016 CE. Full message decoded: Come. He is found. He is weak. Come." Clara bit her lip.

"They found us," she whispered. Her thoughts raced. If the Doctor as human, they couldn't cannibalize his DNA. But if he was human, he couldn't save Earth. But if they stole his DNA, Earth would be screwed anyway, because they would be unstoppable.

Clara had been "the Doctor" before, but if last year had taught her anything, it was that she was by no means infallible. With so much at stake now- she didn't think she could do it.

 _No._ She would do it. She _must_ do it. Clutching the TARDIS console, Clara focused on breathing. In. Out. In. Out. With each breath her panic faded, her heart rate slowed. She knew, then, with a blinding clarity, that whatever she did, it would be for the Doctor. Before she had betrayed the Doctor for Danny. Now... now, if the worst came, she would betray the world for the Doctor.

 

***

 

Amy stared at the rock. It was... boring. Just a plain, reddish pitted rock, like any other meteorite- except for the odd characters burned into it.

"May I touch it?" Amy asked. The ETist nodded. He thought she was an expert in aliens. Although, come to think of it, she sort of was. She picked up the rock, bouncing it in her hand. Sniffed it. Smelled like ozone. Wrinkling her nose, Amy thought, _Definitely a meteorite._ She touched the edge of one charred letter with a tweezer, and nearly dropped the rock. Beneath the black crust was a familiar white goop, with a scent that evocative of certain vivid memories.

Angry now, with short abrupt motions, she took a small sample of the goop and the rock.

"I'll need to take these to my lab," she lied. "But it looks like you may have a genuine artifact here." The ETist beamed, and before he could offer a tour of his other "specimens", she hurriedly bid goodbye, and got into her car for the long drive home.

Well, she had a sample, and a suspicion of what it was. But how to find out if she was right?

Troubled, Amy drove home faster than was strictly legal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another surprise character!  
> Warning you now, that Mickey won't actually appear except in comments. I had written him in- but it was too many characters to balance, so I'm afraid you'll have to do with out. :(  
> Like I've said before, this chapter and the next are Doctor-lite, mostly plot-driven chapters (yes, it is ironic that all the action happens when the Doctor isn't there, but that will change. I think.)  
> There is major whouffle in Ch8 though, so look forward to that:)


End file.
